


These Precious Things, part one

by Bofursunboundbraids



Series: These Precious Things [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Illnesses, Lake people are hardy folk, M/M, Survivor Guilt, the aftermath of battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Are you still with us, Mister Baggins?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>The sound, now a noise, was demanding a response. An eyelid struggled to move from its current closed state only to allow a cruel light to assault the fragile orb within.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>"Oh, I am <b>SO</b> glad! You really are the bravest little hobbit of them all!"</em></p><p> </p><p>Bilbo goes in search of the girl they left in Laketown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Precious Things, part one

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the last episode of this series. Except, not really. I realized that it could use being split in two. (and since this was only supposed to be one fic, I suppose the spirit of the PJ is alive and well in me) So, this isn't quite the end.

"Bilbo..."

A sound from far, far away.

"Bilbo Baggins..."

It seemed to be getting closer.

"Are you still with us, Mister Baggins?"

The sound, now a noise, was demanding a response. An eyelid struggled to move from its current closed state only to allow a cruel light to assault the fragile orb within.

"Oh, I am **SO** glad! You really are the bravest little hobbit of them all!"

Both eyelids were now open and the source of the encouraging noise could now be seen.

"Gandalf..." Bilbo whispered, his throat as dry as the dusty old rocks he lay on.

"Yes, yes, it is I! And here we are at the aftermath of a great battle!"

"Battle... **BATTLE**! How did it...owww...how did it go? Gandalf...how are the dwarves? The company? Are they..."

"Now, now, my good fellow, lay your head back down and I will tell you."

And when Bilbo's head once again lay on the stony ground at Ravenshill, Gandalf gave him all the pertinent details; those that occurred before and after Bilbo took a rock to the head.

"The eagles...I saw them..."

"And it is to them that we owe our success. Up until then, I surely thought that all was lost."

"And the company...they're all accounted for?"

"They are indeed." Gandalf pulled out his pipe,

"Good. It would've been terrible to come so far only to..." Bilbo's words gave out. "Well, I suppose I'll be heading home soon."

Gandalf blew a smoke ring that tied itself into a bow. He wiped off the stem and handed it to Bilbo, who took it gratefully. The wizard watched him from under his bushy eyebrows.

"I'm waiting for you to ask me."

Bilbo released an inelegant puff of smoke, "Ask you? What..."

"Thorin."

"Huh?" Bilbo shivered from the ice that poured into his veins.

"I'm waiting for you to ask me about Thorin."

"Oh...Uhm," Bilbo swallowed hard, his throat very sore, "how is..."

"A bit broken, but he lives. And he should for a great while longer, barring any more of his foolishness."

Bilbo was embarrassed by how relieved he was. "I'm so glad, Gandalf. Very glad."

"He is asking for you."

"What?!"

"Thorin is asking for you. As soon as he was conscious and speaking he was calling for you. Of course we had to find you, first, and here you are! He will be gladdened to see you."

"Will he?" Bilbo asked, unsure if Gandalf was aware of what had passed between them, if he knew that Thorin had cast him out, thrown him away.

Gandalf smiled kindly at the hobbit, "Yes. Yes, of course he will." 

Bilbo took another pull on the pipe and busied his fingers with a lichen covered stone. "There's something I need to do first," he handed the pipe back to Gandalf and carefully got to his feet. With his hands on his knees, he took a couple of deep breaths to help clear his head. 

"I need to go to Laketown. Now."

"Laketown? What reason could you possibly have to return there?"

"There's someone I need to find. I need to know she lives before I see Thorin." 

"And this knowledge will make a difference?"

"All the difference in the world."

* * *

Bilbo would only sit still long enough for the most cursory examinations of the bump on his head before he was asking the best way to the Lake.

"There is a group of men readying to leave as we speak. You are sure to be allowed to accompany them." Gandalf handed Bilbo a small piece of lembas and a canteen of water. Bilbo was grateful for both.

"Take me to them."

* * *

The group consisted of twenty lake-men, all of them battle bruised and weary, but anxious to return with news of the battle and the fates of the men who fought. Bilbo rode with Ottar, a tanner by trade. The man spoke quietly of his family; his wife and four children, who escaped the inferno, only for the sickness that followed to take his youngest boy. 

"I'm so sorry." Bilbo was enveloped in a horrible cloud of shame.

"It was nothing that could've been foreseen," Ottar laid a hand on the hobbit's arm, "Dragon and disease...they go where they will despite the best of intentions. What is your business there, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"I'm looking for a girl who worked in the Master's house."

"The Great Hall? That went to the bottom of the lake with the rest of it."

Bilbo's heart sank to the very pit of his stomach, "She is a bright and clever girl. Very...very clever...I have hope that she got out."

"Well, if hope is all you have, Master Halfling, I will add mine to the chest."

Bilbo blew his nose into the rag he had kept the Arkenstone wrapped in. "Thank you, Mister Ottar. I'll take it."

* * *

Midway through the third day after leaving the Lonely Mountain, the exhausted riders came in view of the quickly assembled village of huts the woodland elves had built to house the people of the ruined Laketown. It sat on the far northern shore of the Long Lake.

"It was decided that the new town should be away from where the rotting beast lays." Ottar said, pointing farther afield. Bilbo followed the line of the man's arm down the shore of the lake, but the ruins of the town were too far to see. "I can take you there, if you so desire."

Bilbo's face burned red, "I...thank you...but...I just want to find the girl."

Ottar smiled down at the curly head, his compassionate heart going out to the guilt-ridden halfling. 

The band rode into the settlement and Bilbo listened to voices shouting in happy recognition of faces not seen since before the battle. Ottar pulled his horse up in front of one of the larger structures; wide doors and plentiful windows let in light and fresh air. The man dismounted and helped Bilbo down to the ground.

"This is where the sick and orphaned children are being cared for. I can think of no better place for her to be than here." 

Bilbo bowed graciously, "You have my gratitude, Mister Ottar. If there is anyway I can be of service to you and your family..."

Ottar bowed in turn, "May peace go with you, Mister Baggins. Now, find your girl." And away he went.

Bilbo stood before the new wooden structure, listening to the sounds coming through the open front door; the energetic chatter of children, laughter, as well as tears and the wracking cough of illness. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he would find, and went inside.

Bilbo looked around. The place was bright and clean and children gathered in groups here and there, animated in their play. A fair number lay in low cots, white sheets pulled up to their chins, sleeping away the illness that took hold of so many in the days after the destruction of Lake-town. He scanned every head, every face, trying to locate the one he was looking for; short auburn hair in need of a brush, big winter blue eyes, pale skin with the barest hint of a blush. 

"Edda." he said, out loud. No one noticed him. 

Bilbo walked farther in, moving amongst the groups of playing children, sick children, orphaned children...

"Edda," he called again, a little louder this time. 

A young man watched Bilbo walk by, thinking him one of the children. He was there to deliver food generously supplied by the king of the woodland realm. The man was listening to the matron of the hall sing the praises of the elven healers who had remained to care for the sick. So many now lived that would've died but for this elvish medicine and great praise to Ilúvatar for the gifts he bestowed upon his first born! The young man nodded in agreement, "we do seem to be blessed, ma'am." His ears pricked up when he heard a familiar name called out.

"Edda?" Bilbo called out, an edge of desperation coloring his un-childlike voice.

"Are you looking for a girl named Edda?" the young man answered. Bilbo turned on his heels.

'Yes...yes I am! Do you know her?"

"Li'l speck of a thing, cropped hair, big blue eyes..." 

Bilbo nearly started jumping up and down, "Yes yes yes...is she here?"

The matron cleared her throat. "Are you family?" 

"No...no, I'm...I'm just a friend. Please, I just want to know if she's well. I want to see her." Bilbo wished he had a nicked bit of gold to help speed this along.

"Sure, I'll take you to her," the young man answered and, bidding the matron a good day, he led Bilbo away.

"Thank you, Mister..."

"Oh, sorry," the young man stopped and held out his hand, "I'm called Rig...Rig Reifnirson, at your service, sir."

Rig was tall and broad of shoulder. Hazel eyes smiled warmly in a boy's face dusted with peach fuzz. Bilbo's hand was swallowed up, "Bilbo Baggins, at yours." 

Rig continued to lead him to the back of the building.

"I'm supposing you are one of the fellows she's been expecting. You were with the dwarves...up there?" He nodded his head in the direction of the mountain.

Bilbo's heart ached, "Yes. I was."

"She'll be right happy to see you. You know, she's been real ill, ever since the dragon. I pulled her out of the lake myself."

"You saved her life?!" Bilbo stopped dead in his tracks.

Rig rubbed the back of his neck, "I suppose so, sir. We, my da and I, that is, we pulled as many as we could from the water that night, but there were so many more..." 

Bilbo pulled his eyes away from his feet, "I can't thank you enough, Mister Reifnirson..."

"Please call me Rig, " the young man blushed, "My da's the 'mister' in the family."

"Rig," Bilbo smiled at the boy's gentle manner, "I will make sure that you and your family are generously rewarded."

"That's kind of you, Mister Baggins, but we only did what needed to be done. Ahhh, there's your little Edda, under that tree yonder." They had stepped out of a door at the back of the hall. Rig pointed to a large shade tree and Bilbo saw a small person curled up on a blanket, a book in its lap, its gaze directed toward the lonesome peak. "She spends a lot of time out here, just looking. The healers say the fresh air is good for her lungs. Things were tense for a bit, especially after we lost the other girl from the master's house. Shy her name was."

Bilbo remembered the older girl, the one who had been uncomfortable to be around him and Thorin. Despite this, it saddened him to hear that she died. "But Edda's ok? She's well now?"

"Not fully healed, no, but she's past the worst of it. There's also..." Rig stopped. "Come. She'll be so happy to see a familiar face." And Rig lead Bilbo to the large shade tree and Bilbo's heart leapt when he recognized the person to be Edda.

Rig knelt down beside the girl, "Miss Edda, there's someone here to see you."

Edda pulled her eyes away from the Lonely Mountain and smiled at the kindly baker's son. It was Rig, who had pulled her from the lake and sat by her side while she burned with fever and held her hand when she cried over Shy. 

"Miss," he pressed his palm against her forehead and was glad to feel no fever there, "Mister Bilbo is here..."

Edda's eyes went wide and she tried, weakly, to get to her feet, but Bilbo was on his knees in front of her, pulling her into his arms. The girl didn't say a word, but Bilbo could feel her body shake. He held her and let her cry, cooing calming sounds and telling her just how happy he was to see her again. After a long sob, Edda pulled herself away. Bilbo took a good look at her face. It took him a few seconds to focus on what was so wrong.

It started right under her right eye, traveled across the bridge of her nose, and trailed down, across the baby smooth cheek. It was a red and vicious burn, puckered at the edges and scabbed over. Bilbo gingerly took the girl's face in his hands. "Oh," he kissed her forehead, "Oh Edda, I am so...SO sorry."

"It's okay, Bilbo. Really. They say it should heal. There will be a scar, but, I was never going to be a great beauty anyway, so it seems hardly a thing to get upset about." She blinked away her tears and sniffled. Bilbo patted his pockets.

"Once upon a time there was a hobbit in need of a handkerchief. And now there's a young lady who could use one and the hobbit is still sorely lacking." Bilbo pulled back when something white fluttered in front of his face. He took the proffered hankie and mouthed "thank you" to Rig. 

"I knew you'd be back for me," Edda blew her nose. "Even when all I heard was that everyone who went to the mountain had to be dead. Because of the dragon. And now there's been a battle..." A fresh spring of tears flowed down her cheeks.

"Now, now...everyone is alright. We all survived the dra..." Bilbo swallowed the word. Yes, _they_ all survived the dragon. The ones who, by all right, **should've** died that night. "And we survived the battle, though I'm sure the company is a bit worse for wear."

"And Thorin, is he here? He said he would return for me! Is he...?" the girl's lower lip quivered.

Bilbo forced a small smile, "No, no...he was injured, but he is well. And I know he'll be very happy to know that you are too. And he'll be even happier to see you." Bilbo hoped she didn't ask any pointed questions. He had no idea what state Thorin was in, just that he would live. An image of Thorin, battered and broken made his stomach fall. 

Edda laughed through her tears, "I can't wait to see..." but she could no longer speak for the chest rattling cough that took hold. Bilbo rubbed her back until they subsided. He looked at Rig, "She's getting better?"

"That's what I've been told. The fever has been gone for some days now, but the coughing lingers."

"Perhaps it would be best that she stays here." Bilbo said, but Edda heard.

"No! *cough cough!* I have to go! Please, Bilbo, he's waiting for me." Big, wet blue eyes pleaded her case.

"Alright, sweet pea, alright...we'll go. Rig," Bilbo had become immensely grateful for this young man's presence, "is there somewhere we can borrow a pony? I don't have any gold with me, but when we get to the mountain..."

"What you need is a wagon. Let me go out and see if anybody's going north."

"I can't thank you enough, Rig Reifnirson. Can you help me get her inside?"

Edda grabbed hold of Bilbo's arm. "No, please, I don't like it in there. It's much to cl...*cough*...close. The air here is good." Bilbo immediately gave in, patting the girl's too thin arm.

Rig stood up and smiled, "Let me get you something to hold off the cold a bit longer." And away he went only to return a few minutes later with a blanket and two crockery mugs of tea. Bilbo and Edda huddled close as Rig wrapped the blanket about their shoulders.

"Alright, then, I'll find you a way to the mountain," and Rig, the baker's son, was off.

* * *

"Mister Baggins."

Bilbo felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Mister Baggins...ahhh...sorry to have to wake you sir."

Bilbo opened his eyes and yawned. The young man Rig was kneeling in front of him.

"I've found you passage to the mountain."

Bilbo blinked the sand of sleep from his eyes. "You did? Thank you, Rig. I truly can't thank you enough."

"It was really no chore. It was lucky that some mates of mine are heading that way at first light with food and supplies. I asked if they'd have room for two children, beggin' yer pardon..."

Bilbo shook his head with an easy smile.

"...and they said it shouldn't be a problem to find space in one of the wagons. Of course, they wanted to know why children were traveling to a battle ground and I had to explain a little about you and the lass."

"That's quite alright. I'm just happy to know we'll be on our way soon."

Rig nodded, "That you will. And I would like to offer you a place in our hut, my family's that is. It is getting dark and you both could use a hot supper."

Bilbo leaned his head back and sighed, "That would be brilliant!, I can't remember the last time..." Bilbo stopped. Oh, but he could remember the last time he had a hot meal! It had been in Laketown; a rich stew in thick gravy, biscuits with butter and honey. A memory of sucking honey from Thorin's tongue came unbidden into his mind and he squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to shut it out. He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry..."

"No need to apologize, you must be tired, no shame in that. Let me take the girl." And with great care, Rig picked the sleeping Edda up in his arms. Bilbo grabbed the blankets, and a ruined yarn doll that Edda had been holding, and they walked, slow and silent, through the makeshift town.

The hut Rig and his parents were living in was simple but sturdy, like all of the huts the woodland elves helped build along the northern banks of the Long Lake. With the opening of the door, Rig and his guests were greeted by the cheery face of Rig's mother, Menia, and the tantalizing aroma of stew bubbling over the wood stove.

"I've brought some friends home with me, mum. They're heading north come morning, and I thought we could spare them some supper and a place for the night. Ahhh...there you go Miss Edda." Rig sat a now awake Edda in a wobbly chair near the heat of the stove.

Menia wiped her hands on her apron before rising up on tip toes and planting a kiss on her strapping lad's cheek. "Welcome home, luv...oh my, we've a starved scarecrow here, haven't we and, ohhh..." Menia kneeled down in front of Edda and took in the girl's thin, burned face. The dark circles beneath her eyes were nearly purple. "Let's get some food in you. How does fish stew sound?" 

Edda bobbed her head, "Thank you most kindly, ma'am, if it's no trouble."

Menia patted her hand and moved to fill a bowl with the aromatic concoction. "No trouble at all, poppet" She handed Edda the bowl, wrapped in a dish towel, and balanced a plank of buttered bread on the arm of the chair.

Again, the front door opened, and Rig's father, Reifnir, came in with a gust of icy air, a brace of trout in his hand. "Oohh...I think we're going to see snow before dawn." He kissed his pretty wife on the lips and held up the fish, "Frigg brought in his first decent haul today, my darlings! Fortunes are beginning to impro...ahh...we have guests." He nodded to Bilbo as Rig introduced the hobbit and he recognized Edda from the night of the dragon. "And this is the lady we pulled from the lake."

Edda nodded, orange broth dribbling down her chin, "Yes, I am, sir. Thank you again and again." 

Reifnir ruffled the girl's already messy hair, "it gladdens my heart to see you so well, dear girl." He passed a bowl from his wife to Bilbo, who took a place on the singed rug laid out upon the swept dirt floor. Reifnir settled down next to him, and tucked into his meal.

"Mr. Bilbo has just come from the battlefield, Da." Rig said and settled himself on the floor next to Edda's chair, his own bowl of stew nestled in his lap.

"Is that right? You must be the Halfling what come with that company of dwarves. The silver king's halfling."

Bilbo wished he could blame his deep crimson cheeks on the heat from the stove. He merely nodded.

"The news floating about says the Goblins were defeated, but that the dead of all parties lay thick on the ground." 

Menia shushed him, "The girl, dearest, she doesn't need to hear such talk on a full stomach." She glanced at Edda in time to see the girl's face get caught up in an enormous yawn. "And it looks like it's time for our young lady to get some sleep." Edda stood up and bowed, wishing her hosts a good night, and then hugged Bilbo and kissed him on the cheek. Bilbo was deeply troubled by how very thin she had become since their last moment together in the Master's hall. Menia then led the girl behind a hung curtain of sail cloth, and made her a bed of blankets and pillows. Like almost everything in this new town of survivors, they smelled of wood smoke.

Reifnir had removed their empty bowls, and he and his son lighted pipes with tapers made alight in the stove fire. They both shared with Bilbo, whose own pipe was lost somewhere in Mirkwood. The baker queried about the rumors swirling regarding the fabled dragon horde.

"It's definitely there. An obscene amount of it." Bilbo hated to talk of the foul metal.

"And the rumors claim the Oakenshield survived, but barely."

 _Barely?_ Bilbo hadn't heard that part, Gandalf had said..what had he said?

A bit broken...

Thorin had been calling for him.

And Bilbo had not gone to see him.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose and hoped that Reifnir and Rig would see it as a gesture of fatigue and not soul-twisting guilt. "Sorry...yes, he lives."

"Well, I suppose that settles that. The King Under the Mountain has truly returned. Perhaps our fortunes will change."

"It's been long enough, Da."

Reifnir smiled at his son, poised on the edge of manhood, "That it has, my boy. That it has."

The three sat, quietly smoking and thinking their own private thoughts. Reifnir noticed the eyes of his guest looked unusually bright in the firelight. 

"How are you holding up after all of this, Mister Baggins?"

"Better than I have a right to." Bilbo spoke honestly, the guilt born of his role in the nightmare these decent people had faced a great pain inside him.

"Don't blame yer self, Mister Baggins. We all held great hope at his words. And they have come to be. The cost was just more dear than we expected."

Bilbo nodded, "Yes," he looked away, "yes it was,"

"So, you're going back up there, you and Edda?" Rig asked.

Bilbo nodded, the wisdom of this becoming questionable in his mind. "She has been promised a place with Tho...with the king. They...took to one another, while we were guests of the Master. She will be well cared for."

"They're going up with the supply train. Val and Danes are making a space for them in one of the wagons," Rig told his father.

"Well," Reifnir tapped his pipe out in the ash pan, "that's good. Should take three days, but, like I said, the sky is threatening snow. We will spare what warm things we can and food. Hopefully you'll arrive without delay."

Bilbo looked from father to son, at the good, open faces of men he had just met that day, the men who had saved Edda's life. He owed them so much.

"Your generosity will not be forgotten. I'll make sure that you're provided with all you need to rebuild your lives. And the king will know of what you've done for Edda."

Reifnir smiled at Bilbo and bowed his head. "What we do, we do for our people. Not for riches or renown."

"I understand. Lake men are not so different from my own kind, Mister Reifnir." Bilbo got to his feet. "I must beg your forgiveness, but I'm tired..."

Rig jumped to his feet, "And the wagons leave at dawn. Come, there is a place for you to sleep near Edda, if you don't mind."

Bilbo shook his weary head, "No...not at all. I'll probably sleep better than I have in weeks just knowing she's close and safe." He bowed to Reifnir, thanking him again for his kindness and generosity and, then, followed Rig to the space behind the curtain. 

Edda lay, fast asleep, the blankets pulled up high to her chin. Bilbo sat down on a bit of blanket next to her before wishing Rig a good night.

"I'll see you're awake in time." Rig promised.

Bilbo smiled sleepily at the young man, "Thank you Rig, again, for all that you've done for us. You and your family will not be forgotten."

A blush tinted peach fuzzed cheeks, "Good night, Mister Bilbo."

"Good night, Master Rig."

And Bilbo laid down, his head on a pillow, the blankets pulled up high to his chin. He reached a hand out and gently touched a tip of a finger to one of Edda's. She was alive, she was safe, and soon, she would be with Thorin.

And Bilbo will return to the Shire.

* * *

It was still dark when Rig led Bilbo and Edda to the wagon train waiting on the edge of the new town. The prediction of snow had been a correct one, and it crunched under boots and bare feet alike. Under the light of a half dozen lamps, men loaded the last boxes of supplies. The horses stamped their feet and huffed great clouds of steamy breath.

"Val! Danes!" Rig called out to his mates, "Hullo, there!"

A young man of no more than 20 summers, threw up a hand and smiled cheerily, his ginger hair nearly glowing in the dark. "Hullo, Rig! Brought us some holiday seekers?"

Rig clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hah! Hardly, my friend. This is Miss Edda Strom and her stalwart companion, Mister Bilbo Baggins. They have business upon the mountain."

"Well met, I'm sure." Danes nodded in greeting to his passengers. "I can't imagine what business a halfling and a girl could possibly have. From the few stories I've heard, I expect us to roll into a bloody awful mess."

"It was horrible to witness, what I did see of it." Bilbo offered, the memory of it hurt like a kick to the chest.

Danes regarded Bilbo with a curious quirk of the head, "Well, Mister Baggins, we'll get you back in it as quick as we can." He dug a toe into the snowy ground, "Hopefully this is the last bit of snow for a few days. And you miss, looking for your da?"

Edda shook her head, "no, sir, my da is long gone, with my mum."

"I'm sorry about that. Alone in the world, are ya?"

Edda smiled, "Not at all! I'm going to live with King Thorin in his palace. He invited me last I saw him. Bilbo was there, that's what he said, right?"

Bilbo wrapped a comforting arm around the shivering girl and nodded, "Yes he did, and he will hold to his promise. He told me that himself." He didn't add that those had been some of Thorin's last words to him before casting him off as so much rubbish. Faithless, betraying rubbish.

"Well, that sounds a very interesting story, M'lady," Danes bowed before the giggling girl, winking as he caught her eye. "And as luck has it, your carriage awaits to take you to your king." With strong hands he lifted her into the wagon. "Mister Baggins?" He asked, a hand held out. Bilbo accepted the hand that helped him up and in.

"Val!" Danes yelled toward the open door of the supply hut. A man emerged; a tall, thin, young man. Pale and ebony haired. He scowled at Danes before noticing Rig. A smile lit upon his face.

"Rig, mate! You made it." He clapped a hand on the baker son's back.

"Aye. The cargo is already stowed away." Rig nodded toward the wagon and the lads moved closer to it. Rig introduced him to Bilbo and Edda. Val recognized Edda from the Master's Hall.

"I no longer belong to a master of men," Edda announced, her chin raised, her arm linked tightly through Bilbo's. Val looked to Rig who nodded.

"She's going to serve the new king up there."

A crease of concern ran between Val's eyes. "the dwarf king? That's not somewhere a woman should go, especially one so young."

Edda was on her knees, her hands gripping the wagon wall, "You know nothing about what you say! Thorin is the most noble soul..." she went silent with a gentle "shhhhh" from Bilbo as he gently brought her back down. 

"She's right. The king will let no harm come to her." Bilbo said, rubbing Edda's cold hands between his own.

A light of recognition flared in Val's brain, "You're the halfling...the one that came with the dwarves. The rumors said that you were the king's..."

Rig clapped his friend hard on the back, effectively cutting him off, "It must be time to shove off. Looks like everything is loaded." 

Danes rubbed his hands together, "Well, then, let's go!" He gave Rig a hug, and promised to call on his friend when he returned, in ten days at the nearest. Val, too, hugged Rig and promised that they'd keep an eye on their little passengers. Rig thanked him and went to say good bye to his new friends. Bilbo shook the young man's hand and thanked him profusely for the care he had shown Edda.

"It was all my pleasure, Mister Baggins. She's a sweet kid. It was awful to see what happened to..." her gestured at his own face. "You'll make sure she is taken care of, up there, will you?"

"Yes, of course, that is my only reason for going back up there."

Rig nodded his head but Bilbo could tell he was hesitating on his next words.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

"I...well...I thought...the rumors, that is..." Bilbo could see Rig regretted opening his mouth. But it had already been done.

"What rumors?" Now it was Bilbo's turn to get to his knees.

"About you...and the dwarf king...that you and he..."

Bilbo laid a hand on the young man's arm, and whispered, so Edda could not hear, "They are only rumors, lad." he added a pat and resumed his seat in the wagon. 

Rig smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, sir. Well, take care of yourself and the lass." Edda jumped up and threw her arms around the surprised boy. Kissing him on the cheek, she thanked him for all he had done for her. 

"It was my pleasure, miss Edda. You get all the way better now and be happy up there with the dwarves, will ya?"

Edda nodded vigorously and lurched as the wagon began to move. 

"Good bye, Rig!" She waved and waved until the wagon turned with the bend of the River Running and he was no longer visible. She settled herself down in the nest of blankets that Bilbo had constructed in their small corner of the wagon. He stretched his arm out and she nestled herself down against his side, her head in his lap. Then he covered her up as best he could and leaned back against the hard side of the wagon. He had been in many uncomfortable situations during this adventure, but this was going to be a particularly long trip. He would spend every second not involved with Edda thinking about how he was going to say good bye to Thorin, for a second time. 

"He is asking for you." he heard Gandalf say, over and over.

"What, Thorin?" he asked the ghost in his head, "Haven't you said enough?"

Edda murmured in her sleep words he couldn't make out. He ran his hand over her short, auburn hair. It was fine and silky, like Thorin's, but without the waves. He had taken great pleasure in the feeling of those waves sliding through his fingers. So much pleasure had been his with Thorin. He closed his eyes and instantly he was back in Laketown; on his back, hands full of that beautiful hair, his legs over broad shoulders, and his cock deep in that glorious mouth. He could feel his body betray him as that same cock swelled at the memory. His eyes flew open and he sucked in painfully cold air and wiped away the tears that seem to ice over even as they burned grooves down his cheeks.

This was going to be the longest journey of his life.

* * *

It was three days to the mountain. Three days of a rough wooden seat jostling over a rocky road. Three days of exposure to the cold, with episodes of snow and, worse yet, icy rain. Bilbo and Edda managed through it, huddled close together, sharing body heat under blankets wrapped over and around them. They passed the long hours sharing stories; he of his adventures with the company, of trolls and spiders and the magnificent halls of elven lords. Edda was thoroughly entranced by the telling, wanting to know what heroic role Thorin played in each tale. He wondered if she believed him when the hero more often proved to be himself. 

Edda shared with him what she remembered of her life before the Master's Hall. She described her mother to him; beautiful fiery hair and porcelain skin. In her memory mother was a soft lap and warm arms, songs in the afternoon, a fragrant kitchen and a soothing voice before bed. Father was often on the lake; a fisherman by trade. He always had a hug and a kiss for his best girls and a gorgeous fish to fry up at night. They had gone out on the lake one day, a trading trip of some sort, she was too young to fully understand. And they never returned.

Bilbo tightened the arm he had around the girl burrowed into his side and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Edda. Did no one search for them?"

"People disappear out there. It's common enough. Gone is gone."

Bilbo had no more words that night.

* * *

The sun had just dipped beyond the far western edge of the visible world when the train rolled into camp. Bilbo had only gotten the smallest glimpse of it in the time before he left for the lake, and he was amazed at how it had grown since. Neat rows of tents stretched out before them; banners of elven, dwarven, and mortal marks flew in the cold, night wind, lit by what seemed hundreds of lamps. Edda, who had spent the greater part of the day (when not wracked with coughs) asleep, was now on her knees, her hands gripping the edge of the wagon wall, taking in the sights. She pointed and gasped at the first elf she saw.

"Look, Bilbo, LOOK! Oh, look how beautiful they are!"

"Yes, they are, sweet pea." He said, in encouragement. "But don't let Thorin hear you say that..."

"Oh, right, because of being put in the elven king's dungeon. Then I shall hate them, too."

Bilbo laughed out loud. "King Thranduil is most likely somewhere about the camp."

Edda looked horrified, "Then it is my duty to keep him away from my lord."

"Thorin will be most grateful, I assure you."

And the wagons came to a full stop. Bilbo stood up, his body complaining in just about every muscle and joint, and looked about the well-lit camp. He could see many people making their way to the wagons; mostly elves and men. No one he recognized. Danes appeared to open the back and give his passengers a hand down. 

"Thank you, Master Danes," Bilbo shook the young man's hand, "and please, when you see Rig next, tell him his care and hospitality will not be forgotten."

Danes grinned tiredly, "of course, of course. And you, Miss Edda," he gave the girl a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "I wouldn't be surprised if I hear, before long, that the dwarves have made you their queen."

Edda blushed, shooting a quick glance at Bilbo, "Oh...no...I don't think that will happen."

"A princess, then. Well...good luck, Mister Baggins." And Danes moved off to help with the unloading.

Bilbo and Edda walked away from the crowd surrounding the wagon in search of a familiar face. He eventually recognized an elf close to the king who had been kind to him in those moments after Thorin cast him out. Not everyone would've had that sort of patience with a heartbroken hobbit on the eve of a great battle. 

"Astaldo!", Bilbo shouted, running up to the elegantly surprised elf.

"Ah...Baggins-perian, mae govannen." Astaldo greeted the weary hobbit.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see a familiar face." And Bilbo started in with questions about the state of things and the elf was happy to oblige. 

Edda watched Bilbo talk to the beautiful elf, though it quickly became apparent he served Thranduil, and Edda turned away with a "hmmph". She glanced about, wondering where in that sea of tents was her King Thorin. She expected to see him, a head shorter than every man, but more grand than any of greater stature. Then a shorter, stocky form caught her eye. She looked hard and...

"BOFUR!" Edda yelled before running across the yard to the dwarf who had pulled up short at the sound of his name. She heard Bilbo call after her, but she had to talk to Bofur and surely her dear friend could see where she had gone. There was no chance she could get lost, now that she was among friends. When she reached the smiling dwarf she hugged him as fiercely as she could, taking care of the arm he had in a sling.

"Oh, miss Edda! You are a sight for weary eyes. How did ya come to be here? Not exactly a nice place for a young lady such as yerself."

"Bilbo brought me. We've just arrived." She pointed to where Bilbo stood speaking with the elf, "I'm going to stay here, to be with Thorin."

"Well, isn't that fine, then. The sight of you will do his poor heart good. And that of Bilbo, too."

"Where is he?" Edda asked excitedly, tugging at Bofur's good arm and bouncing on her toes.

"He's all the way down, lass. The last tent on the left. Now don't you want to wait..." He left off the end of his thought as Edda darted away, soon getting lost amongst the milling inhabitants of the camp.

* * *

"The snow has been a blessing in that we haven't any great need to burn the bodies. They've all been carted away to be dealt with come the spring thaw." Astaldo told a cringing Bilbo.

"And were there very many?" 

Astaldo's eyes betrayed his great grief, "Too many."

Bilbo laid a comforting hand on the arm of the elf who had sat with him through his own great sorrow. 

"Bofur!" he heard Edda shout the warm-hearted miner's name and sprint off.

"Edda!" Bilbo shouted after her retreating form.

"You will be wanting to speak to Gandalf?" Astaldo asked. Bilbo nodded, somewhat distracted. He looked up at the elf, while trying to keep Edda in the corner of his eye.

"Yes...I would! The girl," he nodded in her direction, "needs to be looked at by a healer. Her face..and her lungs...she's been ill." and he froze as he watched his charge run off into the camp. "I'm sorry...excuse me, please..." he apologized in haste and ran over to the dwarrow who was only too happy to see him.

"Master Baggins! Well, if you aren't here a moment too soon!" Bofur greeted the hobbit cheerily.

"What? Why? Is he dying?" Bilbo's heart pounded in his chest like a sledgehammer.

"Who? Do ya mean Thorin? Then no, although it must be something, the kind of luck he lives by. For all intents and purposes, he should be in the far halls. No...he's just been calling for you; night and day. Dwalin has been threatening to do what the goblins failed at." Bofur nodded in the direction Edda had run off in, "Yer young lass ran off to see him."

"Where..."

"Just follow the line of tents to the end. Bilbo," Bofur laid a hand on the hobbit's shoulder before he could run off as well, "he's different. Listen to what he has to say. There is something in the mountain that made him..."

"Thank you," Bilbo said, cutting Bofur off. He couldn't listen to any more talk, all he needed was Edda in view. He actually convinced himself in those few seconds that that was what drove him down the lane of tents, dodging large men with all the nimble grace gifted to his race. It took him the time of a number of hard breaths and pounding heartbeats to realize he stood, panting, in front of the last tent. The flap was ajar and he could hear Edda's sweet girl's voice cooing between alternating giggles and tears. He walked up to it, and then that deep rumbling timbre, that he knew so well that it rumbled in his soul, met his ears. He sucked in a breath, released it, and stepped inside.

In the dim light of a few lamps, he saw Edda sitting on the side of a low bed covered in furs. She was bent over a reclining figure, large hands in her own and she was covering them with kisses. After she kissed both palms, those hands slid up to cup her face and pulled her in. He watched that figure lift its head to fit its lips to hers and he couldn't help gasping. Edda sat up, positively beaming, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Bilbo! Come, see your Thorin. He's missed you terribly."

Bilbo managed to put one foot in front of the other despite the fact that he was numb from head to toe. The figure slowly came into view, but it was much changed from when he saw it last, standing on the wall before the ruined gate. That face, beautiful even when hate lay behind it, was darkened by deep purple bruising, scabbed over lacerations, and stitches were visible under one eye. He avoided looking into those eyes as long as he could, but when he finally relented, standing at the bed side, his hand on Edda's shoulder, those eyes were every bit as blue as he remembered. Then those eyes crinkled in the corners and that face was smiling at him. 

"Bilbo..." One of the large hands reached out for him. Bilbo stepped back, just out of reach.

"Thorin." he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> So, a bit of a cliff hanger. Bilbo will have his say in the next...last...episode. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who has been following this and for all the comments and kudos... THANK YOU!!!
> 
> And an especial thank you to [wanderingsmith](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith)! She feeds my obsession, listens to my silly ideas, and writes beautiful things!


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